


Wayfaring. | Winter.

by lideria



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood&Gore, English is not my first language so if there are any errors please excuse me, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Mentions of Suicide, Multi, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Sad, Slow To Update, Swearing, Zombie Apocalypse, apocalypse based on the last of us, depictions of corpses, gun use, kind of action, mentions of killing, violent themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lideria/pseuds/lideria
Summary: Post-Apocalyptic world is never safe. The past is not, the present is not, the future is not. The promises are not. The walls are not. The sense of community is not. What is left of humanity is not. And everyone has to learn it the hard way. You have to wayfare, slowly, taking it all in and learn. It is life or death. Fight or flight. And you have to make the right choice.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Reader, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Wayfaring. | Winter.

**Author's Note:**

> After much thinking I decided to make this big story a series, because I'm pretty positive the overall product will be over 60k words. This is the 1st part and there will be 3 parts. To make it a bit more meaningful, I'll be releasing the winter part now (in winter for where I live), spring part in mid-spring (possibly around April), and summer, again, around mid-summer. I will also create a playlist by the end. Any and all feedback is much appreciated, I'm still not over the Last of Us haha fu-  
> I hope you all enjoy reading my baby!

The night was freezing cold.

You walk through the streets of a mix of stone and wooden buildings, lights mostly dim because of the scarce population. Most of the people were at the city square. They were laughing and dancing the night away as groups of people sang for them with the old, occupied instruments that belonged to who-knows-who all those years ago when all of this first started. ‘This’ as in survival of the fittest, as some would say. And from what science could explain, a fungal infection that took over the brain and body that eats away at your tissues until it has completely taken over your motor functions and skin, and can spread its spores to others freely. An infection that could basically ‘zombify’ and fungi-ify people.

That is what everybody who has experienced the outbreak day would tell you, at least.

Being born into it is apparently easier, that is what the older adults tell. Because people have it figured out, there are communities like the one you are in; nobody has to roam around alone and lose so many people in the process. You did not agree to that. Nothing was easier, except for maybe gathering the knowledge of handy survival skills.

Perhaps living in a community was easier, as well. You loved it. You specifically loved _your_ community. The stone and wooden houses, the olden cafés and restaurants, actual electricity that was not a thing outside of the gates, fairy lights hanging across porches and roofs, kids and bicycles around, horses, elderly people. Schools. A whole cinema and market places. People who were hunters, people who were guards, people who were wanderers, people who were recruiters; people who had the luxury of just being parents or students or more. And people, perhaps after seeing the world fire up and fall apart, were filled with love towards each other. Compassion, respect; a lot of things that the outsiders did not have. For the most part, of course. Evil was still a thing even within the community.

You smile at the children hurrying towards the square with a few apples in their hands, laughing and skipping around with joy— one of them waving at you as they pass you by. You wave at them as well, chuckling at one of the boys’ claims on how he will make a run for the sugar in the cafeteria so they can caramelize them.

This is why you love it. Even though it is hard.

Just as snow starts to fall from the sky that was clear with visible stars just moments ago, you take your last turn and make your way to your destination. The light shines from their porch and emphasizes their house as you pick your pace up with your boots that are crunching the asphalt that is too old for its own good, cracked and overgrown with the unkempt vegetation.

And surely enough, he is there. You cannot see him clearly since his silhouette’s too dark with the light hitting from behind, but there is only one person who can be as tall in that household even when they are doubled over.

Not making eye-contact even once as you approach the house, you take big strides through their garden and get on the porch. He does not turn to you and opts to stay silent, still doubled over with his elbows placed on the somewhat high fence. You do the same and let out a huff; a laugh too airy and low to be considered one. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Johnny smiles, still not meeting your eyes. “I freaked out.” 

“Over a kiss?” One more huff. “Sounds nothing like the Johnny I know.”

“Yeah,” He nibbles on his lip a little, and smiles at their neighbor whose kitchen window is just across their porch that is grabbing a glass of water in greetings. “I just don’t like the idea of kissing someone and having it not mean anything anymore. Feel like I’ve passed that stage.”

Your eyes lock on a star in particular when he turns his head to look at you. “Reasonable,” You let out nodding your head. A witty smile creeps up onto your face at that second, and you turn to look at him also. “I guess it comes with growing old.”

That makes him giggle and playfully punch you on the side of your shoulder, prompting you to let out an _ow, motherfucker_ , because he is too strong for his own damn good and he seems to never realize that. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You brush him off, massaging the side of your shoulder, the smile still on your face. “Tell me though, was the kiss good? It _looked_ good.”

His brows furrow in unfiltered concern. “You watched me kiss?” 

“Well if you just adhere onto someone’s lips like they glued you to each other in front of the bar I’m trying to get a drink from, Johnny, I’m kind of obligated to see it for like a second at the least.” He laughs at your ramble and breaks the furrow of his brows. As if he is defeated, he nods at the end a little. “It was amazing.”

“Oh so it’s like _that_ ,” You lean into him, hardly containing your giggle. “What does that mean?” He asks back with his own smile still on his face, clearly amused. Your eyebrows furrow this time albeit not seriously. “You damn well know what that means.”

Johnny sighs. Long and deep. Then, he speaks. “I love you, you know. You’re the best annoyer I never would’ve asked for.”

At that you chuckle, letting your shoulders shake with the force of it. “Good thing they didn’t ask you then.”

He does not say anything after that for a while. The two of you stand in silence, you looking at the stars and him looking at the street— or maybe the overgrown plants, you do not know. He fiddles with his calloused hands slightly, and it is only then that you realize that the house is much quieter than how it usually is. His parents must still be at the square, even though you have not seen them at all that day.

That night, to be more honest. During the day it was not really like you could see a lot of the folk.

Johnny must have somehow read your mind, because he speaks up again with only a heavy huff. “I heard about this morning,” His gaze is directed at you again. You break your smile and lean further, letting your head drop lower to the fence as you sigh yourself. One of your hands instinctively go to your face and to the spot where everything aches right on your cheekbone, tracing over the few burn scratches you got when you fell onto the ground. “It was nothing.”

“That wouldn’t have been believable even if I hadn’t known you.” He stands upright then. You see his hands come into your vision before they pick your arms off the fence and force you to straighten up as well. He inspects your face for a bit, tracing your red spots and scratches with his fingertips, and frowns. “Sometimes I think you’re a bit too careless.” Johnny mumbles just above a whisper, making you smile. Not particularly with happiness or being flattered, but something rooted more from embarrassment. “You say that a lot.” 

“Yeah, because I want you to come home in one piece.” He takes his hands off of your face. “So you can finally get it on with Jaehyun.”

He immediately receives a shove to his chest and full on laughs at that, watching your pissed off face that is rather scary for anybody else. After years of knowing you ever since you first walked into this place only with another survivor, coming from a smaller settlement that went to absolute chaos, Johnny could not ever fear you. Fear you in a respectful sense, yes, absolutely. Because he has seen what you are capable of doing outside to survive. And in actuality, it is not the capability that made him fear you in that respectful sense; it is that he has seen you melt into the nature of it all, sometimes losing yourself in the things that surround you and the things you are feeling. Johnny has always differentiated himself from everything, so seeing that was what made him fear you.

The very same things made people fear you, as well. A lot of people stayed away from you, which always made him feel bad. He found it extremely admirable that as a teenager you were able to look for a settlement without any guardians and with only a companion, even though your earlier settlement was not too far from the city. At the same time, he could not fear you knowing how you can get with people when you care about them. He had learnt about it all first-hand when he was the first to approach you at the grey and distressing identification center after you arrived, after his parents encouraged him to ask you over for dinner, after visiting you many times at the lonely dorms and helping you fall asleep by tiring you out with his jokes and conversations, after helping you move into your own place when you were old enough, after going on patrols with you and much, much more.

“You’re disgusting, does anybody ever tell you that?” Your annoyed voice almost echoes to his ears after the many shouted singings and overall shouts he had heard that night. “The word you’re looking for would be ‘teasing’ and I just _know_ it’s on the way. That relationship is long overdue.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice interrupts your bickering, and when you turn to the direction it is coming from, you see Yuta just behind the fence. He climbs up a bit and hangs off the railing, not fully climbing onto the porch. “Hey, man. Why don’t you just come to the porch?”

Yuta holds a hand up and waves it around, and both you and Johnny fear that he will fall down with only one hand on the fence helping him sling over, so you both take a step towards him in a hurry. But he does not fall and places his hand back. “I’ll just go home. I’m very cold and kinda drunk.”

Johnny mumbles a _we can see that_ under his breath, but he cannot say it louder because Yuta points a finger at you, prompting you to take another step. “ _You_ are patrolling with me tomorrow.”

You finally get a hold of his arm and Johnny takes care of the other one, so now his feet are planted to the ledge of the porch and you two are basically holding a whole grown man up on his feet. That does not hold you back from complaining, though. “What, why? I was out just today.”

The drunken man shrugs. “Don’t know why you, but I think I saw Jaehyun sign your name up with us.”

A closed-mouthed snicker comes from Johnny at Yuta’s words and you snap your head at him, looking into his eyes, warning him not to do the very thing he is doing right now and to shut up about it afterwards. “Fine, I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

The knock on your door wakes you up the next morning.

Groggy a little from drinking the night before, and from the soreness of your face, you are not the happiest when you open the door up to greet Yuta and Jaehyun. They are standing on the thick snow that has covered the ground overnight, all equipped up and ready to go. The two of them look noticeably more content as well whereas you are just there basically ready to beg them to let you sleep some more. Actually, ready to beg them to leave you alone altogether. 

You could really use a day off after falling face-first to the concrete yesterday. It has been long since you have had a day off anyway. Lately it was either you were going out on a patrol or sweep, or you were training the new recruits and the volunteers. You kind of did not remember the concept of sleeping in at this point.

“I would say good morning, but your morning looks far from any of that.” Yuta says in an annoyingly bright tone, and then he points at your face. “Your face didn’t swell up. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s _magical_.”

Your fingers reach up to your sore cheekbone once again. Yuta is all true, there is no swelling up although it hurts so bad still as if you had not cleaned it up, when you did. Multiple times. “Just come in. I’ll wash up and grab my coat.”

They walk in when you hold the door open for them and scoot to the side, and make their way to your couch, plopping down on it without any care. You make your way to the bathroom in silence and quickly wash your mouth and face, only bothering to change your clothes because you see a change hanging over the shower cabin. After doing so you hurry over to your wardrobe in your room and grab your coat along with your gear, and make your way to the pair of boots you had been wearing for quite long. You ask your question while you are struggling with putting them on. “Why are we going out anyway? I thought every spot was clear.”

“Someone said that the crops are dead already outside the walls,” Jaehyun answers. “Means the winter’s coming faster and harder. And that means herds may come in faster. Taeyong just wants to make sure nothing’s out of control.” Which _does_ make sense that him and the council would decide on something like that, especially after the chaos that was a couple of years ago. Uncontrollable increase in infected meant uncontrollable increase in herds moving around, and that meant uncontrollable fullness of areas, which meant hunting for supplies were almost halted, which meant there was a serious shortage in supplies. “Plus, we’re running low on medicine. So if we find any on the way,”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod as you let your foot fall after tying the last knot. “Is it only us three?”

“No,” Yuta jumps at the question, almost. “Donghyuck’s coming as well. Said he needs to let off some steam.”

“Why?” You chuckle. He looked dandy fine last night at the square, warming himself up by the fire and chatting and laughing with people. “I heard they fought with Mark.” Jaehyun, once again, answers.

“ _Again?_ ” Grunting as you wear your coat, you zip it up before opening the door and holding it out once more. The boys stand up and walk towards the door. “Why can’t they keep their stuff to themselves?” You laugh, dearly hoping this fight is not another one feisty enough to keep them from talking to each other for months.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jaehyun mumbles, and waits for you to close your door before starting to walk with you. You smile at the close proximity he keeps with you as you two walk behind Yuta, following him to the stables near the big metal gates through the lively streets. 

Donghyuck is already waiting for you when you arrive. He complains about his horse being taken by someone else first thing when he spots your group, prompting the stable staff to laugh behind him, presumably at the fact that he is not complaining that he will be going out for a patrol in the freezing cold, no, but that he is complaining about ‘his’ horse that is technically not his being taken away. He does not really bother to greet you as well. It is a common theme with him, so you do not take offense.

Once you are handed your horses over to you, you make your way to the gates, holding them from their reins— just in case if they ever get freaked out from the sounds the gates decide to make. 

You spot a familiar face at the gate. Walking over to him is basically an instinct. “Hey,”

“Hi.” Mark smiles at you, and pets your horse on the nose a little.

Mark is important to you.

He is the person that has accompanied you on your way here after your last settlement got raided by a large group of people that belonged to a community called Nox— the largest community ever established after everything went wrong with the world, and the most developed, as well. Their recruiting process was very disciplined, they had spread all over the country in years and mostly aimed specifically for the big cities, which allowed them to have plenty of resources and people with ‘greater’ professions (like doctors, scientists, military officials, agents, anything that was deemed to be handy in an apocalypse) in their communities. 

That had been what happened. It was supposed to be a recruitment, but once people denied to be a part of them and stood up for themselves, they did not like that. At least the branch that they had sent out did not like that.

Your settlement was up in flames by the time you and Mark made it out of there. The night had brightened up as if it was the morning.

Then, it was a month full of almost-dying. The two of you _had_ been out of your settlement before, but not for long periods where you also had to look for some place that would take you. Infected wanted to get you, and if they did not, it was the people. Sometimes they would take you in for a short while, letting you use their resources before changing their paths and letting you go with a bit of a help; maybe weaponry, maybe food, maybe medicine. 

Mark and you would have to find hiding spots and places to sleep, and a lot of the times you would just make do with sleeping under a vehicle in the cold in unpopulated areas. Although hard to believe, those spots were one of the least visible and most secure. 

The two of you had saved each other perhaps countless times from dying. You were not friends before you ran away from your settlement. You did not exactly know a lot about each other beforehand, only acquainted as a familiar face you would see on the street. Yet when you ended up together, you cared about each other so unexpectedly much.

After you came to the city, though, it had changed a lot. They put you on schedules and dorms and houses that mostly did not go with each other, so the communication had broken— except for slight communication through Johnny who was your middle ground with his role of being a mutual friend. The sheer care you had for each other had stayed the same, though. It would have been difficult to let go of that.

“What happened to your face?” Mark asks and instinctively reaches out for it, making you hiss when his fingers come into contact with the sore red spot. He immediately retracts. “I fell.”

His brows furrow as if he is not believing it, so you laugh to calm him down. “No, I really fell. Planted face first onto the concrete.” That makes him chuckle, but his brows are still furrowed. “Of course you’d do that.”

Mark takes a deep breath. “You have everything you need?”

Someone shouts from behind, one of the watches. “Herd patrol, open the gates!”

“Yeah, I do.” You answer him, and he smiles a bit more reassuringly. “Be safe out there. Let me see you from the gate when you come back.”

There is the screeching sound that the gates do whenever they open that would surely attract some infected if there were any of them around, so you could only hope there were not. Your hold on the rein gets tighter when your horse gets a bit agitated from it. “I’m coming back and you know it, Mark.” Smirking, you step on the foot hold and mount onto the saddle.

He says only one thing before he lets you go. “I do.”

Outside the gates could have been just as pretty as it always was if it was not for the thick snow that coated everywhere and made it hard to travel.

Underneath the thick cover of snow would be overgrown grass and wild plants and flowers that definitely were made to not be natives of the land before any of this had happened, but were now claiming their home to themselves and growing freely without any control. You did not know what most of the plants or flowers even were, even though they had taught you back in school— but you knew you would never be a farmer or a wanderer. You knew you would never have to rely on that knowledge so giving up on it was pretty much an instant thing. 

Above the snow, though, were pines and willows thriving in the humid cold. Corkscrew willows, narrow leaf willows and glaucous willows were painting the very much white and grey scenery some lighter shades of green and pink, glistening with the snow sitting on them when the silver but blinding sunlight hit their surface.

You were pretty much on watch the whole time as the possibility of a herd passing through occupied your mind. There were the occasional wildlife passing through the valley, mostly rabbits, dogs and squirrels, and the occasional deer. They run around, sometimes passing under the horses or too close to them and scaring them a bit off. It was nothing that you could not take care of though. 

Through a mutual agreement, you go to the town first since it is a good distance away from the city still and is one of the places that is sure to have any signs of a herd if they are coming in. That was because there were not a lot of traces of the infection since there is no people that still live in that town, and the infected would just roam through to potentially find a host.

Some of them would just die on their own from the cold and spew out spores in hopes of reaching something. They usually did not.

When you are in the Western-looking, red and brown brick-borne town, you divide the sections and go your separate ways. You probably would not have done that had the entrance of the town been crowded, but it had not been anything close to that. Yuta insists on his advice for all of you to do everything as quietly as you can just in case, and you all seem to agree on that, considering this is only a patrol and not a sweep and you do not have that much ammo.

The South of the town was mostly empty to your delight. Definitely more crowded than how it usually was this time of the year, but nothing you could not take care of. You did not even have to waste too much of your ammo taking out the infected that were already there— ones mostly freshly infected. Runners, who could still see you and who could still run and who still _looked_ like humans except for their blood covered mouth and hands. They looked alive. They grunted, they made humanly noises, they twitched in their place. It almost looked like whoever they used to be was still inside them and was trying to fight that damn thing off.

It made your blood go cold at the thought every single time.

Once you are done with the infected you could see so far by the help of your trusted stealth skills and dagger and only some of your ammo, you check on a couple of buildings that were on your list that had not been explored yet. But after being open for anybody to come and loot year after year, there was not much that you could find. Some rubbing alcohol hiding away in a stash of unusable supplies, some canned food that were very suspiciously still not out of date, and a few more things. Nothing too useful.

Within a bit over a couple of hours at the least, you make it back to your meeting point at the main street of the entrance, the supplies stacked behind your horse and on the board she was equipped with that would help her in being able to drag everything comfortably. To your relief, everyone is already there, and there are no infected in sight. “Anything useful?” Jaehyun asks, and you shake your head.

“I could get some rubbing alcohol and some gas for the generators, but that’s about it.” Yuta nods at your words. “Same here— except I found this stash of ammo and some meds, but I didn’t take any of it.” 

Donghyuck glares at him with an obviously visible amount of anger in his eyes, which makes Yuta further explain himself. “I don’t want to mess with them if they’re a trespasser. I’ll give it a week, and if it’s still there then, I’m just gonna dive in because the prick had some good stuff in there.” He sighs. “I also left a note, saying _you’re kind of fucked, friend, because the herd’s coming._ Told them to head down to the river following the valley and that the place with working lights and big metal gates would welcome them if they’re smart about it.”

Sometimes Yuta could be extremely innocent, wanting to believe everyone is good, but he had something about him where most of these people he left notes for would actually turn out to be decent people that would join your community. So you could only hope whoever this was would be the same. “That is so sweet of you, but I think some of the herd is already here.” Donghyuck says, and all of you turn your heads to him. “You know the hotel half of it’s said farewell? It was flooded with infected. Of all kinds.”

“Sounds like a fucking dream.” Jaehyun murmurs, kicking around the snow a bit with his boots, looking down. You lay a supportive hand on his forearm. “Sweepers will be lucky though. Some of them are loaded with stuff— backpacks on and everything.”

But his words still hold a heavy weight to them, because these poor souls just did not survive for as long as they planned for. And it makes you wonder, wonder if they were alone or in a group, moving or not moving, had a family or not, had friends or not; what was their original plan? Did they even have a plan, or did everything just happen when they were hidden away in somewhere?

“I found a safe, like a whole dark room,” Jaehyun says. “Inside an apartment. I guess they were a pharmacist or a doctor or something— there are a lot of bottles and boxes of medicine and compounds. And I hardly think they belong to anyone at this point because the door lock was literally rotting away.”

“You think it’s okay to take?” Donghyuck asks Yuta, who nods promptly. “Let’s not take all of it just yet, though. Leave it for the next patrol or the sweepers, they can get the remainder later.”

And then he clears his throat. “Why don’t you two go ahead?”

You two. Jaehyun and you.

Before you know it, you are already sent that way and are trotting your way down to the apartment with your horses. The apartment is definitely not close to the meeting point, especially had you been on foot, but with trotting your way down it was much easier to access. You see the infected Jaehyun has taken down, and again, most of them were Runners; the only explanation you could come up with was that the actual herd had had a feast in another settlement or an area ridden with survivor groups, and since they are Runners they can move faster which is why they are already here with the cold. Basically that they are the herd before _the_ herd.

You dismount when you arrive at the brick and brown, dirty looking building and follow Jaehyun up the stairs that by some miracle do not just collapse, watching him easily open up the doors after having broken into them. 

Like he said, the room is there, mostly dark but only lit when its door is open and light spills in through the shutters, and it really is packed with medical supplies.

“I randomly inspected some of them, most of it’s not out of date yet.” You nod at him when he looks at you. “Okay.”

But something genuinely pisses you off. It has been pissing you off for some time, so the only thing you can do is confront him when you are alone. “Jaehyun,”

“Yeah?” He kneels onto the floor and starts inspecting things again, placing some of them into the bag he had grabbed from the side of the saddle before you made your way in. You kneel in front of him and sigh, looking down at his hands and spotting the slightly scarred knuckles. Probably from subconsciously pushing on doors while breaking in. “I know it was weird a few nights ago because everyone was around, but it’s weirder right now because you have a thing where you go awkward and quiet when you feel that way,” His eyes bore into yours. “And I _really_ can’t stand that,” You let out an airy chuckle, and he kind of smiles as well. “So either kiss me like you mean it next time or never do and let us stay as friends.”

It was supposed to be a basic thing.

Jaehyun had kissed you a few nights ago at a movie screening. He had asked you to watch the old sci-fi movie with him, and had waited for you in front of the cinema, stuck between the crowds of people of all ages. Throughout the movie you had just whisper-chatted back and forth, almost none of your attention on any of the scenes even when they got louder. The topics of your chats had been lighthearted and fun as well, gossiping a bit about your friends and telling each other about funny encounters you recently had with people around the city or outside. Sometimes the chats were about the movie, with questions of what would you do if you were living in that universe instead of this one, which one would you prefer and more, debating on the questionable answers; throwing your dried and seasoned corn at each other if either of you thought the other had absolutely ran out of any sanity.

After the screening he had just asked you if he could kiss you as if it was the most normal thing he could ask, saying he could not wait any more, and you had let him because the mutual attraction had been there for too long and you wanted him to kiss you just as much as you had been wanting to kiss him. 

But he had gotten shy about it— crowds were never Jaehyun’s thing, and that was fine. The thing that was not fine was how he acted around you for days after that, quiet and somewhat cold and awkward, when you were okay with it all and had expected him to make a move last night at the square.

He breathes out a laugh through his nose and looks down, playing with his hangnails and the traces of the rein that is left on his fingers, not deep but definitely visible still and a bit pink around the outlines. He smiles under his nose, you can see it because the lines of light that hits his face illuminate the side of his lips that is curled up, and when he picks his head up and the lines hit his brown eyes, you are smiling too.

Because Jaehyun places his hand at the back of your neck and kisses you.

Firmly, with care, and like nobody else is there— there is nobody there, but this time it feels like even if there were people he would have been fine with it. He lets you place your hands on the spots between his chest and shoulders, and lets you pull him further down with ease, spreading his other hand that is holding you on your back to give you better support. He opens his mouth first for you, maybe to show he is meaning this and he means so much more, and you give into it. That goes on for a while with hands roaming wherever they can. You only come back to your senses when his teeth scratch your bottom lip. 

He stops when your hands push against him lightly. “Any longer and Yuta will never let this die down.”

Nibbling on his lip with his teeth, Jaehyun huffs a smile and nods. “He really won’t.” And he leans in again, only pecking you this time.

Johnny and his predictions that gave you the bravery and encouragement to do these kinds of things could go fall face first onto the concrete.

The rest of the patrol and getting back to the city go almost seamless, except for the fact that you had to pass by a couple of groups of infected— some Runners who had spotted you and alerted the Clickers (one of the older stages of infected where the infection has taken over most of their skin and has made its way out, taking over their eyes and using echolocation with the clicking sounds that comes from their throats) with the sound they made. They caused a bit of a hassle, but nothing you could not take care of; not with Jaehyun’s quick bow skills as you galloped through the occupied areas of the valley and all of your leftover ammo. “You’re losing a lot of arrows, don’t you think?” Donghyuck asks Jaehyun, shouting a bit out of breath since the galloping motion is taking a toll on him.

Jaehyun pulls the reins to himself harshly. “Yeah,” His horse halts without any discomfort, and you see him from the corner of your eye before he is left behind. “I’ll meet you at the gate!”

And he starts galloping to the opposite way. 

If it was anybody else, any and most probably all of you would have started screaming some sense into him. But it was Jaehyun. Whose way of doing things outside, although stealthy, was very impulsive. So you do not take your gaze away from the road ahead of you, locking your eyes on the city just now visible as you make your way down.

It is already dusk by the time you are at the gates and the watches see you, asking where the hell Jaehyun is and offering to open the gates when Yuta tells them he is collecting his arrows back from a small area, so he should be back any minute. All of you agree that you do not want the gates to open before he comes so the noise does not attract anything more than it needs to.

Just as you expect, the missing person of your quad comes sooner than later. A proud smile is on his face as he goes on about being able to get back five of the seven arrows he had used, waiting for all of you to make your ways in before walking in himself.

“We have some gas and some meds,” You tell the watch who is there the second you walk in, to unleash the supplies behind your horse. “With plenty of infected on the side.” Donghyuck adds, too upbeat for the news he is delivering. One of the gatekeepers is quite mortified to hear that which is why he feels inclined to add more to his words. “Not a dooming amount, but we definitely need a few sweeps. It’d be worse if the herd caught up to them.”

“Why don’t you just go tell that to Taeyong?” Mark cuts in, and you can immediately tell how irritated Donghyuck gets. His face gets red, his eyes drop and squint, and he completely forgets about getting off his horse which all of you do at that point. “Oh would you look at that,”

Mark tries to hold a snicker in, you can tell, because his lips curl inwards. “It’s almost as if that’s not _exactly what I was about to do._ Fucking asshole.”

Mark finally gives in then, letting his shoulders shake when he greets you, giggling. He tries to check if you have any bites since it is a procedure he needs to do, but he cannot do it effectively with how much he is giggling— which was fine, because he could very clearly see you did not have any bites. None of your clothes were torn, and your face, hands and neck that was not covered up was just very visibly in quite okay condition.

“I’m having dinner at Johnny’s tonight,” You tell Mark as he lets go of your hands, making him pick his head up. “Just saying.”

“I’ll see if I can pay a visit.”

You smile at him and make your way over to Jaehyun, letting him put an arm around your shoulders and walk away with you, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

He does pay a visit.

The night is pierced through with Mark’s laughter when Johnny’s mouth drops open. He stops mindlessly strumming his guitar when it takes over him. “Dude, I’m telling you,” He says between his laughs. “They didn’t even look at each other when they were leaving, and somehow they were all lovey-dovey by the time they got back.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny nudges you rather hard in your side, and this time you are snickering along with Mark just at the sight of his face. “You called me creepy when I knew all along.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Johnny. I apologize for not crediting you enough on your talent of predicting relationships.” Your smile dies down a little after that, and your voice goes a bit quieter with the confusion. “Well I don’t know if it’s a _relationship_ yet. It just happened, sort of.”

Johnny shrugs at that and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him on the couch with one of your legs dangling over and one of them propped up. “That’s fine. You guys can let it brew for a bit more. Just test the waters.” A breath of a chuckle makes its way out of your nose at his words and how the high you had felt a few hours ago had crashed down into this weird oblivion, but Mark nods in agreement.

You do not see it, but Johnny smiles down at you while you fix your eyes on the photographs on his wall. Some of his, some of his parents’, some of his newborn days— the final days just before the infection started taking all over the country and the world. There are a few with you and Mark, too, a couple of them looking downright awkward with Mark and you too numb to the friendship he was offering you after coming to the brink of death maybe tens or maybe hundreds of times, and another couple of them where the photos are just blurry with how much you were laughing and it made steadying his parents’ old camera harder.

He turns his head to the opposite side, facing Mark. “You got any _sick_ raps, Mark?”

“What _is_ that question?” Mark howls out, laughing his chest off like he always does. “When you say it like that I don’t wanna rap ever again.”

But he does, because Mark is like that. 

Johnny and you do your best in hyping him up, shouting and howling and springing in your place to the beat of his lyrics. You two let him rap until he really does not feel like it anymore, and you listen to him when he goes back to strumming his guitar, softly singing some things every now and then. So quietly that you almost do not even hear it. 

The night goes on like that. You just lounge around, Johnny between you and Mark, cozy and warm. 

If there was anything about them two, it was that they made you feel normal somehow. Which is maybe why you cherished them so much, and what the three of you have.

Unfortunately, you wake up early once again in your own room in the morning even though you do not have any reason to.

There are some upsides to that when you have the day off, as much as you hate it. You get to take a shower with all cold, yet much appreciated water, and properly change your clothes into new ones after a long while, to make a breakfast with what you have stored away in your cupboards, and maybe even do laundry if you had any leftover homemade soap. 

Sometimes you paid a visit to the dorms, checking up on lonely recruits if there were any that you had grown some kind of attachment to.

That morning you do all of that, too. You get your hair and body feeling and looking all clean, eat somewhat of a nutritious breakfast that is much better when compared with just going with an all empty stomach, change into some of your newest clothes that Johnny and Jaehyun had gifted you once after an outing for hoarding. Except while you are making your way to the dorms just to check on the newest recruits, you stumble upon a group of people lining in front of the entrance to the stables.

Your interest peaks when you spot Johnny, who is writing his name down on the board at the gates that open to the place. You hurry over to him as best you can in your still sleepy state. “Morning,”

He hears you but does not bother to turn his head to look at you, knowing you would come to stand next to him. “Hey.”

As expected, you halt when you are there. You look at his name on the board and his signature along with the date, and you know for a fact he is going out. “Sweep?”

“Yeah,” He lends the pen to the person next to him, and moves out of the line, prompting you to move away with him. “Signing up last minute. Taeyong and Yuta can’t make it out today, so.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows, and he shrugs a little. “Yuta’s needed at the training grounds today, and who knows what Taeyong has to take care of.”

He watches you as you sigh, truly tired of it, but the inner conflict is louder than any type of exhaustion you could possibly have. “Well I’m coming with you.” 

When you try to walk into the line he steps in front of you, and puts a stop to whatever madness you are planning. His hands physically stop you as well as he places them on your shoulders. “No you aren’t,” Johnny’s voice is firm, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. “You need a day off. Your whole face looks purple with the cold, the lack of sleep, and the scar— and you look awful.”

He smiles then as if he had not just dragged the way you look all over the floor. “Just go and relax. Maybe spend some time with Jae, hm?”

You bite down on the insides of your lips and nibble on them, and furrow your eyebrows at the squeeze of your heart. “Just do me a favor and be careful. There are a lot of Runners around,” One of your hands come up half-bothered to point at the people in the line. “Tell that to the group as well.”

There is a silence that lasts a couple of seconds, but then Johnny pulls you in for a hug. “You know,” He mumbles. “If you actually talked to more people they’d like you better.” He knew what you would say, that you do not like the stares that people throw at you anywhere and everywhere, and that it stops you from approaching them. So, he stops that from happening before it can. “I’ll take your horse if that will make you feel any better.”

Stepping away from him, you smile and shove him a little. “Take my horse if it will make _you_ feel any more secure, and send her back if your ass can’t make it.”

“Will do.”

Dusk comes, and the sun sets.

Some people do not return that evening, and Johnny is one of them.

Supposedly, his whole group is missing— which is a good thing, because it is not completely uncommon that people camp in some sort of a hide-out if the infected in the area are too much for them to handle with the amount of people they have and they think it is better to wait it out. 

Which is why, although bitter, there is hope inside of you. 

His parents are distressed when Taeyong comes to tell them the news, and they remain just as distressed afterwards if not more. Whenever you see them, you cannot help but notice how their faces are overborne with concern. Their brows are always furrowed, their mouths are always pointed downwards in a frown, their eyes always glazed over with what looked like thousands of thoughts racing all around, and the wrinkles on their faces are deepened in some areas with the weight and tension.

You grow distressed and restless as well, as hours— _days_ pass. The concept of night and day loses its significance because you are too distracted during the day when you are supposed to be training the recruits, and too uncomfortable during the night rolling all over the bed without a drop of sleep in your eyes.

And it must be not only you that is feeling that way, because Taeyong knocks on your door in the dead of the night a few days after Johnny’s disappearance. When you open the door his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks a lot paler than he usually is, his eyes red all around. 

He gets straight to the point. “You, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark. I want you to search for them while another group goes for a sweep.” His voice breaks at some point because of how tired he must be feeling and how scared. You nod slightly, the tension pulling and burdening your face. “Okay.” 

After your mumbled, quick and short answer Taeyong turns right back on his heel and walks down the stairs of the porch. You cannot bring yourself to close the door just yet when you see him, a friend of a friend but a figure as protective and wise, walk away with his guards clearly down. “You should try and get some sleep,” You advise after him, even though you yourself are suffering from the same problem he is. “What you do matters.”

Taeyong does not slow down, and is out of your sight within seconds after he leaves your backyard.

Next morning, it is as if you had done a mutual agreement between the four of you, because you are all by the stables with the slightest hue of sunlight.

No one is smiling or looking content in any way or shape, but no one is agitated, either. The most healthy thing at that moment is to force yourselves to go numb altogether and you all know it. 

With so much as some collective huffs you write your names down on the board and sign in the hand-drawn boxes next to them, being able to see all of the missing people’s names that were out just before you— it was never a pretty situation. The stables are kind of empty from all the horses that are missing as well and it feels weird to not be able to go out with the horse, _your_ horse that you had considered a companion for years on end.

But Anubis, the black horse assigned to you that day, was a good compensation. He was surprisingly comfortable with you from the get-go.

The stable you were in got too empty after all of the search and sweep groups took their horses with only a couple of them left behind, and before you knew it, you were on them and stationed in front of the gate. Handwritten documents were in Yuta’s hands mapping out yesterday’s group’s sweeping locations.

And as he said just before you all mounted on your horses, no one would be parting ways that day.

When the gates open, you immediately start galloping behind the sweepers— they collectively had more ammo than your group, and they were going in the same direction for a while, so they could be some sort of a shield for you if the groups had somehow started moving much faster all of a sudden. Your group would be heading to the settlement just a bit further away from the town you had gone through yesterday; most probably what used to be its business district if any of your predictions were true. The sweepers would be going to the town, figuring the groups that were saturated behind the town must be at its downtown now.

The way up the valley is rather empty, which is almost more unsettling when you think of how many people are missing.

Six, to be exact, counting Johnny. 

You try to focus on different things, like how your backside hurts as you gallop upwards and Anubis pants under you. On the fact that he is a rather strong horse and you had never noticed that when anybody else was riding him. How he is maybe the most elevated horse you have ever had, and how his back is very uncomfortable to ride on even with a saddle. How he is very enduring considering he does not slow down in the slightest even after the valley starts getting a little rough, not falling behind any horses and even passing some of them if it was not for you that took him back under control.

It helps you, focusing on him, because you do not want to focus on things that might get your guard down.

The sweepers part their way with you at the point they need to, making a turn for the northeast once you enter the town, letting you pass straight through. Without any goodbyes because you have officially entered the danger zone.

And you truly have, because there are Runners around with not as many Clickers roaming through in the visible distance where the sweepers are headed. You can only internally wish them good luck.

It takes less than an hour to get to the probable business district that is filled with concrete and glass covered buildings unlike the town, overtaken by vegetation (and snow) that has washed over its blues and greys and beiges and the financial personality it once had— again unlike its brown and red brick counterpart. 

All of you make your horses come to a halt once you enter the environment, again, just to make sure there is as little noise as possible. Dismounting from them and taking the reins in your hands is an instinct. “Where do we go first?” 

Yuta looks down at the papers with Mark’s question. His fingers trace over the words until they find what they are looking for. “Well,” He huffs, placing a hand on his nape with a wince. “They were going to the law firm, the bank in southwest, the city hall and they would meet at the conference hall. They must be around these areas if we’re lucky.”

“And if _they’re_ lucky.” Jaehyun says under his breath, but you hear him loud and clear. And you have a feeling that everybody does.

Yuta drops his hand that is holding the papers and sighs. “The bank’s the farthest one, let’s go.”

They are not at the bank.

Not in the bank, not around the bank, not in the subway station under the bank where there is a hide-out in one of the conductor rooms, not inside the surrounding business buildings _all_ of which have of their doors opened whether it is one of the back/staff doors or the front entrances as if it is an all-you-can-get open buffet of places to roam around for the infected. When in actuality, your people’s strategy is to close the doors and lightly barricade them after coming into any contact, trying to keep as many infected on the roads so it is somewhat easier to wipe them out by narrowing their moving space. It also helped indicating whether there had been any recent trespassers at all, because most people not acquainted with your settlement would not bother with closing the doors behind them as they lost themselves in all the possible places to hoard.

And it all just means that there must have been trespassers recently, making the infected harder to find since they were free to go into the buildings, which must have messed up with the sweeping.

It does not feel right at all.

The law firm which is a rather small building is of no help as well. No alive, normal human is inside, not in any of the five floors that you have to clear out a little or around, and once again the doors are open. All you can find are supplies lying around the fifth floor that are definitely from the city’s storage so you know that they must have stayed for some time there at some point. You take them back. But there is nothing more.

To be truthful about things, none of you had your hopes up about the city hall. It was an extremely open space and was most definitely not the safest in this situation, nor the most resourceful place to hide or camp in anytime— or to hoard things with nothing but once-fancy tiles all over the interior and no leftover supplies from passing groups. However, they would have gone there to check if there was anybody hiding away, because people (especially in groups) who passed through did that since it is a quite distinctive and low building in between all of the higher buildings for those unfamiliar with the area. They would have brought them back to the city if any of them were there. So it does not surprise you when you find the city hall empty as well, except for the sea of infected that swarm the grand entrance to the hall that make your eyes widen and immediately shut the door close when you first open it up. Plus holding onto dear life pushing against the doors with Jaehyun when some of them are attracted to the noise and make a run for it.

Sweep season was the worst season.

Through a mutual agreement, you barricade the doors a little (a lot) tighter with fire truck hoses that have long been detached from the abandoned truck between the hall and one of the high-rise buildings that most probably was sitting there since the outbreak day, where fire trucks were not only used for the countless fires that started especially in the traffic, but also to rescue people stuck in upper floors of buildings that were taken over by the Runners.

There is no way the infected trapped in the hall can open the doors through layers upon layers of a thick hose wrapped and tied around the handles of the entrance, at least you all would like to believe that. 

When your heart rate picks up is when you spot a building with its visible doors closed on the way to the conference hall. “Wait.”

Everyone stops, prompting their horses to do the same as them. The guys look at the direction of your gaze, and they all seem to come to a realization. “Do you think-?”

“I think there’s no reason we shouldn’t.” But Yuta does not look too keen on it, so you have to agree further. “There’s something obvious here, and I think it’s an objective point when I say that.”

He nods at that and clears his throat, looking up at the building for a split second. “Is it okay if you search with Mark? Jaehyun and I’ll be here, I kind of need a second thought as I plan out the mapping for if they aren’t here or at the conference hall.”

“That’s fine.” You assure him, and nod your head at Mark. “Let’s go.”

Inside the building is eerily quiet, but brightly lit with the afternoon sun shining through all the glass. You have never been in this building before, at least you do not think so, because the lobby does not ring the slightest bell to you.

There are bodies of infected that are taken out lying all around. They paint the light creme flooring red with their blood, but it is comforting. Because it is for certain that they have been here, at least.

A fire exit door is all that you are looking for, or a staff room that could possibly lead to the stairway, but it takes a bit of an embarrassingly long time for you two to spot anything in the seemingly open-spaced, bright lobby. You come to learn a bit after starting to walk around that the entry to the stairway beside the elevators just outside of the oval lobby is also blocked with something on the other side.

“There’s a crack in the elevator doors,” Mark suggests, and although ladders are the one thing you hate the most, you agree to take them to the upper floors.

It is so dark and humid inside with years upon years of unventilated air, the smell of rust and rot is absolutely disgusting, and you fear that the years-old ladders will break any second with both you and Mark’s weight on them. Not to mention how tiring climbing up a ladder can be for your arms and legs when you hold onto the thin and flimsy metal waiting for the other to separate one of the elevator doors, most of which are rightfully blocked.

On one of the far upper floors, though, there is no blockage, and you can swing yourselves onto the hallway. Which is scary to be honest, especially when you are all this way up and if you miss anything your way down will be met with an old, hard, rusting top of an elevator on your back. 

But god bless the planners (maybe their souls) of this place, because the ladder is close to the opening enough that you can swing onto the floor without too much hassle. Neither of you slip after jumping down onto it.

“Do you think,” Mark dusts himself off as if it would help with anything, takes a deep breath in his tired lungs, and rephrases his words. “Do you think they came all the way up here through _that?_ ”

“Maybe they blocked the stairway and the doors,” You suggest instead, and it sounds a lot more like the option the two of you would like to believe in. “Right half yours left half mine?”

“Sure.” He answers, and the two of you go your separate ways on the big office floor.

A few doors open to the empty, messy office rooms and you check through the drawers for anything worthy to take back with you even though there is not much of it. One of them provides you with some scissors and lighter liquid, which end up being the most usable things you get out of them. Some doors do not even budge with whatever is blocking your way.

But there is a room at the visible end of the hall where the door will budge, but will not open.

You resort to using your shoulders to break into the room rather quickly. There is not any particularly loud sound coming from behind the thick, polished wooden door, and something about it being left secure but still accessible made you think there must be something behind that door that is useful. Maybe a stash of actually usable supplies or much preferably, anything that leads you to your missing people.

The door opens with your fifth push, and you hear the sound of a broken lock clink on the ground.

You also hear the shriek of a Runner who jumps you immediately after being attracted to the sound.

With the force of your push you have basically thrown yourself into the arms of the Runner which is never a good thing or in any way close to an ideal situation, and you have to duck away by kneeling lower and throwing yourself to the sharp opposite side of where the infected is facing to make sure it does not grab your arms. You take a few steps away but it is just as fast as you are, so you have to use your quick wit and draw out your gun in the blink of your eyes, shooting it in the head— impractically unable to care whether there were any infected on Mark’s side or not because it was either you or whoever they were with the shock and the pace of things.

The mess of a creature falls down with a slump, your heart absolutely racing but also dropping— because as you look down at it you can see that you know who she used to be. You were not friends or even really acquaintances, but you know for a fact that she lives in the city. So you turn back around to the open-planned office with your fast approaching panic and adrenaline.

Which is when you see it.

Johnny, slumped onto the floor, sitting with his legs spread out. Johnny, whose ankle looks broken. Johnny, who has his gun in his hand.

Johnny, who has a bite mark on his exposed right arm where orange-salmon colored fungi is growing out, extending upwards to his shoulders and neck.

Johnny, who has a hole on the left side of his chest, red spatter over the wall behind him, slumped on the floor with fungi growing out of his arm ready to grow all over his glowing skin until he grows into the wall and starts letting out spores.

Johnny, dead.

You do not know if any air makes its way into your lungs. It surely does not feel like it. Your ears ring and your eyes go dark with purple spots all over your vision and you get dizzy and nauseous, but somehow, you stand.

“Mark!” You shout out, surprising yourself, calling and alerting him when you can already hear his fast approaching steps thumping on the floor at the sound of the gun fire. Before barely a few seconds can pass he barges into the room with his gun in his hand but stops when he sees you frozen in place. Then, he follows your gaze.

Even from the side of your eye, it is obvious he flinches. “What the hell happened here?” His voice is not above a whisper.

You look at the less familiar face lying on the ground, and its shoulder. “The bite marks look similar.” There is no sense of stillness in your voice as you speak. “I guess they just locked themselves away,” Teeth grinding tightly, you let out a silent and choked sob, because you cannot believe any of this bullshit your eyes are seeing.

Mark takes a few steps towards Johnny and picks something up from the ground— a paper— making his way to you. But he stands on his own while he reads with his slightly shaky hands, and crumples the paper once he is done skimming over it. He sits next to you on the hard, carpeted but otherwise concrete floor. “They got bit while they were clearing out the basement,” His lips wobble a bit, but he quickly covers it up by placing his fist over his mouth until it goes away. “Locked themselves in here so they wouldn’t harm anybody.”

“If the trespassers didn’t go through the district leaving every goddamn door open, none of this would’ve fucking happened.” Maybe you were trying to blame it on someone, or maybe you really were mad at them for their ignorance as they went through the city. You did not know for certain, although it felt a whole lot like it was the latter. Because they would not have had to camp here anyway. There would not have been infected in the buildings in the first place.

You sit down where you are standing, looking at Johnny. 

All you know is that this was unfair. If anyone deserved surviving long in this world it was Johnny. He was physically strong, and he had a good mental attitude, and he was so purely good that the last thing he deserved was to die the way everybody did, alone and scared and not wanting to turn into one of those things. He deserved to die of old age if anything after living a happy and healthy life, continuing to help lonely recruits like you and Mark— doing what he likes to do until his very last days. Training, falling in love, teasing and pestering his friends whenever and wherever, giving advice, making people’s stomachs hurt with his smooth and not-so-smooth jokes, doing photography as long as that camera of his would survive, spending time with his family and not moving out of their house even though there are available houses until the time comes when he absolutely has to.

But he cannot do any of those things anymore. 

He also cannot be there for you or Mark anymore.

Your trembling hand comes up to spread over your eyes and your fingers rest on your temples, and you hitch a breath in. “What are we going to do?” You ask Mark with your just as trembling voice as if he would know. The question is not necessarily about this particular moment in time, but about the far future as well. He lets it linger in the air as his eyes switch between the two bodies.

“Well,” He clears his throat when his voice shakes violently and looks at you, his hands playing with the carpet, picking and tearing away. He chooses to ignore the far future, at least for now. “We’ll have to tell his parents first.”

The hand on your face falls down. You look at Mark, and he notices how wide your eyes are. He knows you cannot comprehend it by the way your eyes look, looking right through him with your shell shocked, hundred-yard stare. “No,” You whisper. “Mark, I can’t.”

“That’s fine,” He looks into your eyes with his own that are glazed over, and nods reassuringly. “I can.” 

But it does not feel better. Instead, it makes you feel worse immediately, because you feel like you at least owe Johnny and his parents this. It makes you feel ashamed that you will not do even one thing about it, because you do not think you would ever be able to look into his parents’ eyes again; knowing you joked about it before he left and you were too unbothered to go out after him before you were ordered to do so. There is nothing in your heart, mind, or body, that tells you that you can do it without completely losing yourself in the process.

The two of you collect yourselves and come back to your senses as quickly as you can, because you knew Yuta and Jaehyun would be on you if you were any more late. 

Mark helps you in carrying the bodies down the stairs which is an extremely tiring task considering you go down several floors, and the mental toll it has on you. The two of you unblock the fire exit door and push the metal drawers and organizers aside, opening the door and carrying them to the lobby.

Then, you head outside. Yuta and Jaehyun do not spot Mark and you until you get closer, but when they do, their brows immediately furrow. “We need two bags.” You mutter, feeling your chest stutter with the words. Their faces fall at that very second. The grip Yuta has on his map that he is holding tightens and his knuckles go white, and he sighs with utter disappointment. Knowing Yuta, it is at himself.

“One of them’s Johnny.” 

The muscles on their faces relax only for their eyes to widen.

It takes a few hours for all of you to get back to the city once you put them in bags and start riding, not galloping nor trotting; deciding not to look for the others knowing it would take a longer time to get back and not wanting to stress out anyone in the city further. A night group could easily replace yours. 

When you are at the gates the sun has long set. Questions arise once the gates open and the bags dragged by the horses are seen. You and Mark answer them since you are the ones who found them in that state, where you found them, which building, which floor, was there anything written around them, any symbols, any human spotted around the area— anything useful.

You give them the answers still in a daze, and let them take Anubis from your hand. Without waiting for anybody you start walking, on the way to your house.

Except, you do not end up in your house for a while. You wait in the dark, just around the corner leading to Johnny’s house and you watch Mark deliver the news to them. Although you cannot hear what he says to them, you can see it clearly with the light on their porch. How Mark delivers the news with his hands linked in the front, fiddling with his fingers a little as he looks at their expectant faces. How Johnny’s mother hugs into his father once she hears the situation, both of them shaking with sobs. How Mark’s shoulders drop and how he tries to console them, but stopping when Johnny’s mother does not take a step away from her husband and he waves at Mark presumably wanting some space and time alone to themselves. 

You watch as Mark nods and leaves, and you head to your house. Hurrying into your backyard, you swing open the door and kick off your boots. Not bothering to put them in their place, you take your bag off your shoulders and the only reason that you do not let it fall onto the floor is because of the guns packed inside. Then, you make a move to take your coat off.

And the damn zipper gets stuck.

With a sigh, you force it down. But it does not budge. So you try again, but it will not move. You wait, nibble on your lips, give it time to change its mind: maybe it was frozen and it needed to thaw.

But when you try again, it just does not want to move down.

Pissed off, you try to strip out of the coat. But that proves to be almost harder. Everybody wears thin but warm, lightweight coats to make their movability better, especially outside. But moving your whole arm to yourself and then down while holding the two layers of clothes, one thick sweater and the thin coat on top of it was undoable— because _then_ they were fully limiting your movement. 

And you had to take it off. You need to take it off.

Your hands then start picking and grabbing at the coat trying to rip it off, and that is when your door opens without any alert beforehand and Jaehyun walks in. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers and walks over to you near your couch. You only stop struggling when he stands in front of you. “I can’t get it off, it’s stuck.”

He notices how you will not look into his eyes in the dark, and he notices the tears streaming down your face that you probably are not realizing. “Okay.” 

Jaehyun walks over to your bathroom and takes a bar of soap you have. He walks right back to you in complete silence and dabs at your zipper with the sleeves of his hoodie up and down to take off the excess moisture, and starts slathering on the soap along the zipper until its sharp corner has visibly softened and the zipper looks white with the coat of it. He then fumbles with the zipper for a few seconds before it slides right down.

It makes you feel a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and you sniffle, only then realizing that you are crying after feeling the wetness in your inhale. Your lips waver as you try not to let a sob out. “There you go.” He mumbles as he helps you out of the coat and places it on the arm of your couch. He picks your boots up and places them next to the door.

“Let’s wash your hands.” He suggests, and you look down at your hands, seeing the blood from that Runner. 

Jaehyun is almost late to hold you once your face violently scrunches up and you start fully letting it out, shaking with choked sobs.

Because your crying does not subside for several minutes, he ends up going to the bathroom again and comes back with a couple of wet rags, soaping one up and cleaning your hands delicately before wiping them off. He leads you to your bed then and lets you lie down, pulls the cover up, and kneels down in front of your face. “Try to sleep, okay? Force yourself to if you need it.”

You nod at him, and let him leave after he smiles at you. 

His eyes had looked empty, which was always the worst for Jaehyun.

The next morning you hear your door lightly opening in your sleep, and being carefully shut. A few steps make their way over to you slowly and the empty side of your bed sinks with a somewhat loud huff. 

Whoever it is waits for a bit, lets you sleep a little more even though you are not deep in it. That goes on for a few minutes before your bed sinks closer to your back, and it sinks a bit less than before— an elbow.

Fingers start running through and playing with your hair. It must be Jaehyun. And you are right. “Taeyong let me and Donghyuck take over you and Mark’s work for a couple of days, so you don’t have to go in today.” He softly whispers, and you nod slightly. “How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” You ask in hopes of distracting yourself from the thoughts and views that race over your eyelids, and open your eyes when it does not exactly work out.

He answers with a slight smile. “Your lashes fluttered when I walked in.” You feel him place his chin on your shoulder. “You slept any?”

Gulping, you shake your head. “Just got some shut-eye.”

“That’s okay.” Jaehyun whispers. “Better than keeping your eyes open. I’m happy you got some sort of rest.”

He sighs and takes his hand off your hair then. “Yuta wants to see you and Mark eating so he’s preparing breakfast. I have to leave, but head out soon and try to eat for me. A few bites is all I’m asking for.”

“Okay.” 

Porridge and bergamot tea.

The breakfast Yuta has prepared for you and Mark, with some dried plums and apples inside that he fried on the pan a little. It smells nice, looks less so.

There is no one to greet and welcome you initially when you are in front of his house that is on the same street as Johnny’s. But it does not matter because you barge in to avoid being seen by his parents, taking big strides from the start of the street. You hear the stir of the wooden spoon inside the metal pot, and the fruit that spills in while you make your way to the kitchen. 

Mark is sitting at the island counter of Yuta’s kitchen with his elbow on the surface, his head leant against his hand.

Yuta turns away from the cream colored counters and his electric stove once he hears the footsteps. “Morning.”

You see Mark’s head only tilt a little, but not fully to the extent that he can look back at you. “Hey.” Your voice does not really come out, so you clear your throat. Yuta’s face falls a little at that. “Is there tension in your throat?”

“Yeah.” You sit down next to Mark. With your hands placed on the surface, you turn your head to look at him but his face is covered by his hand and arm. “There’s some powdered ginger you can take in the pantry. But you should try and relax your muscles first.”

With that he pours the porridge into the bowls he has taken out for you, and serves them with a slight smile on his face. Then he pours the hot tea inside two small jars and hands them out as well. “Dig up.”

It does not feel right. The atmosphere is too heavy, but you know you will not get out of it unless you really eat something, so you pick up the spoon and take a spoonful of the meal, gathering a piece of everything. Letting it steam for a few seconds as you watch it, you contemplate putting it in your mouth because ever since yesterday you feel this sickness in your stomach. It is more fragile than it ever could be on any given normal day. 

Even so, you take a bite. At first it feels like you will throw up at the sheer hue of sweetness in it. 

But you chew, and continue chewing, and you do not throw up.

“I heard you’re going out again today.” Mark mumbles, which makes you perk up, looking at Yuta. His eyes widen in the slightest. “I am,” He says, his eyes looking boringly only at Mark.

You chuckle drily. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Taeyong wants me there. He’s going out too.” His explanation does not calm your heart, which feels like it is being squeezed, at all. You turn back to your bowl and continue picking some porridge. Just to avoid his gaze.

Yuta does not say that he would come back or that he would be okay. Because he knows that those words do not hold any meaning to them whatsoever, especially now. “I have to go soon, so you should better be finished with these before I do. I’ll let you drink the tea by yourselves.”

Mark and you start eating in complete silence. Mostly because Yuta is watching you eat and it is extremely uncomfortable, and it would be awkward to just talk as if he was not there. 

It makes you both rush your meals as well. The bowls empty out in a matter of minutes and your stomach feels heavy, though in all honesty, it was a pretty good breakfast Yuta had prepared for you. It was a fact that you would not have bothered to cook or even to prepare something that did not need to be cooked. 

When the two of you are done with your meals, Yuta smiles and takes the bowls away to wash them quickly. Mark tries to intervene and says that Yuta could go out and he would take care of the dishes, but Yuta shuts him right up saying he needs the distraction anyway. 

You can see Yuta’s hands shaking slightly.

It is always difficult to know for sure what he is feeling. But if you had to give it a shot, you would say he is feeling either anxious or shocked, or both. He is the type to live his emotions very secretively, and you could never recall an instance where Yuta’s grief was noticeable. Maybe only when he had lost one of his recruited, young survivors on the way back home. That had changed him as a whole; losing someone (especially much younger than him) under his responsibility.

He leaves once the bowls are washed, not looking at your way or telling you goodbye. You are simultaneously thankful and angry at him for doing that.

The bergamot tea is still steamy. It somewhat burns your hands when you put them around the jar to warm yourself up and start looking into the dark substance, looking so deep into it that you start feeling as if _you_ are part of the dark liquid.

Mark clears his throat. “You’re wearing the same things as yesterday.”

That is true: even though there is nothing that you want more than to take them off and trash them to never see them again. But at the same time, there is something inside of you that does not want to let go of them. Even if it is just taking them off.

You look at the side of his face, and see him taking a sip from the jar. “Could you sleep?”

He shakes his head with a gulp. “No, no. You?”

The two of you make eye contact when he finally properly looks at you, and you shake your head as well. “I kept seeing it like a picture— like something projected at the backs of my eyelids.” 

Mark nods, and that is it for a while. No one speaks for some time and you sip your beverages together as if it is a chore that you have to do, as if Yuta would see you two if you spill the tea into the drain of the sink and would come after you, trying to get done as quickly as possible so both of you could leave to be by yourselves. And it goes on until Mark decides to speak in a low voice. “They buried him early in the morning. His parents didn’t want anybody to see.”

Your eyes burn and the lump forms back in your throat because you can understand why they would not want anyone to see, but at the same time, you cannot. “Some of his older recruits left him flowers and letters, seeing that made me feel a bit better.”

You nod. “He deserves that.” _And so much more._ Despite yourself you smile slightly, and Mark joins in understandably grim, nodding. “He does.”

The day goes by extremely slow, yet so fast once you are back at your house.

You let yourself take refuge on the bed and do not move much throughout the day, trying to sleep. Expectedly, you are not too good at doing that. You toss and turn and huff and look up at the ceiling meaninglessly until you can no longer hear kids playing outside and the adults going about with their daily duties; until daylight loses all of its significance. Until you realize you have melted into this state of mind and have completely forgotten about your needs, using the toilet, eating, or drinking water.

Yesterday’s clothes are _still_ on you. And you cannot bring yourself to change out of them, again, even though there is nothing in this world you want more than to never see them again. 

The night would have not had any significance whatsoever as well if it was not for the sounds of hurried shuffles through the snow that were coming out of your room’s window at whoever knows o’clock. Before you could even show any type of physical response to it- whether it be surprise or suspicion- there were loud and hard knocks on your door. 

It takes probably all of the strength you have in you to get up and walk to the door. You laze your way over to it and swing it open, rubbing your eyes. 

You would have expected it to be Jaehyun, since he must have gotten done with his duties. But it was not him. It was Mark.

Mark, whose eyes and face were lit up with adrenaline. There is not a single emotion you can make out from the way his face looks. The world could actually be ending for all you know, or the community might have been getting raided.

You cannot make anything out from the way his voice sounds, either, when you hear him speak the millisecond after the door knob turns. “They found the trespassers.”

The look in his eyes- whatever it was, shifts into concern for a split second before he carries on with his words. “One of them’s the one Yuta left a note for, they were making their way over here when Yuta found them.”

Those words spark a light in your chest because _of course_. Of course they were the ones that caused this whole thing in the first place and it sounds stupid to you now that you had not even thought about them when you noticed the doors were open.

Which is because the doors at the nearer town were, in fact, closed while you were there.

Now it does not make sense. “Wh- how- that doesn’t make any sense. The doors were closed when we were out earlier.”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess they got the theme by the time they were there. Yuta told me about the whole interrogation,” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “They claimed _everything_ before they could even ask the questions.”

“Do they know they fucking killed people?” You ask, and Mark flinches at the harshness of the words. However, he nods promptly. “Yuta told them. They said they were sorry-”

It makes you laugh at the sheer comedy of it. “They were sorry? That doesn’t bring them back or make up for _anything_.”

“Nobody ever said it does-” Mark defends, but you are too angry at them to stop. “You know how fucking _miraculous_ it is to survive twenty five years- the whole ordeal, especially when you go outside frequently. His parents pushed through thick and thicker with a newborn baby just to get to where they are now, to give him a damn chance at life and _this_ is how Johnny goes? Because of someone else’s stupidity and inconsideration?” Shaking from anger, you wipe at your eyes that have gotten a little wet while your blow-up was going on. You gulp and shake your head, feeling the tension in your jaws. “They should save their apologies because not even a billion of them,” Faster than lightning, you hold a finger up in the air in between you and Mark. “Would make up for a single hair of Johnny’s that got hurt nor for a single tear of his parents.”

Mark, your poor friend and companion, only nods a little. He knows how you get when you are angry, and he knows how fed up you must be feeling, and he can see how tired and out-of-it you look, so he does not talk. He knows that if he were to say anything you would spill words from your mouth you would either regret saying or would only upset you more, and he did not want that to happen. 

Though, Mark did have to say one thing. A part of the truth that would concern the two of you. “They’re from the Nox.”

He watches your eyes slowly widen. In a matter of seconds, you look awake and aware as if you did get all the sleep you had lost the past two days within those few moments. You lean your shoulder against the door for support or from the shock, he cannot be sure. “What?” You whisper.

Mark shifts from his place, the tips of his shoes touching your socks as he leans in much closer- most probably to drown his voice out. The neighbors should not hear more than what they might have already heard so far, even though you had been conversing in low tones. “From the headquarters,” He whispers, looking into your eyes. “They came to recruit people from this area. The others are with them.”

Your brows furrow with the oncoming nerves. “So there were more of them and they just joined?”

After a second’s hesitation, Mark nods. “Seems so.”

“Why would they?” Upon the question, Mark takes a deep breath and pushes his shoulders back much like a school kid being questioned on a topic they have not studied, and looks at the side. The yellow lights from other people’s windows hit his face as he nibbles on his bottom lip indecisively. When he turns back to face you, the lights still illuminating the right side of his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Mark does not get surprised when you chuckle humorlessly. “Well I think it’s pathetic to run with people who’ve killed your own.”

It is quiet for a few seconds as he nibbles on his lip some more, but in the end something- that looked much like defeat- washes over him before he just nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Maybe five seconds of quiet before he speaks, looking down at his hands where his fingers are picking at scabs formed over his knuckles that seemed to be there every living day. “Um,” He swallows the words that would come after that at first, but he thinks, and thinks some more. It takes a couple of seconds, but he does decide to speak up. “You know what, nevermind. Maybe later.”

You get a bit taken aback but he cannot tell, because your brows are still furrowed a bit angrily and there is no other emotion over your face. “Do you know where Jaehyun is? He said he’d come straight after his duties.”

Mark’s mouth opens but no word leaves it. “He uh,” It closes and opens once again, his eyes widening a little. “He’s- he volunteered,” He clears his throat and looks down. “He volunteered for filiation.”

“Of what?” Your heartbeats have gotten significantly faster, stronger and heavier, but you cannot say if it is worry or the oncoming anger. “The trespassers’ base. Taeyong was looking for someone he could trust and he-,”

“Amazing,” You chuckle and shuffle on your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s amazing.” Mark sees you lower your head and your tongue swipe over your bottom lip as you smile bitterly, and when you raise your head back up, he can see the unshed liquid shine with the moonlight. “Why does nobody act responsible?” You whisper, and he sees the falter in your furrowed brows- the stutter.

But Mark knows you better.

He knows this is not how you truly think. He knows you out of all people want to move at the front, he knows you want that the most, and Mark knows you blame yourself for the things you are (in his opinion, rightfully) unable to do. He knows it is because you are scared. He knows you are _terrified_. Because it has been long, so long since either of you two have even gotten close to properly surviving outside and in all honesty: through these years of routinely going out for shorter periods of time and not having to dwell on things out of the gates, you two have grown accustomed to the feeling of homely safety. It really had felt like nothing and nobody would be able to reach you or anyone around you, even if it felt like it just inside the walls. The bubble of routine reality hidden in the much chaotic and unforgiving reality that was this community had slowly but surely implanted the expectation of seeing your loved ones get back home as if it was just a shift of a pre-apocalypse job- what they called 9-to-5.

And Mark knows this is almost like a reset, and that the sense of security and whatever this place has brought you feels like it is gone. He feels like it too.

Mark hates to see you this way. He hates to _feel_ this way. He hates that Johnny was the one who had to go out of everyone, because he was the best of you.

But he knows he should take care of who he has left. In whatever way he can.

When he looks at you, the concerned look in his eyes from a few moments ago is back. “Have you slept any?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He nods as if he expected the murmured answer. “We’re going back to duties tomorrow, you need to sleep some.” Mark sees you chuckle just once and hears you mutter an ‘Easy to say.’ while tilting your gaze down, but he interrupts you by pointing inside, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Do you want me to help?”

“Would you?” He nods, the genuinity somehow visible from the way he does, and steps in gladly when you get away from the door and open it wide enough for him to walk in.

It had been long since the last time he had helped you sleep. It was a few years ago when you were on your own, having just separated from a group of survivors the two of you had become somewhat attached to. Their goals with life were much different than Mark’s and yours- two mere teenagers whose only wish was to not be much farther from home in hopes of reuniting with the people you had grown with.

Who could ever know that a little over three weeks of traveling on foot would already be too far from home, and too impossible to ever cross paths with? A miracle, really, ‘for kids your age’ (as people who were around the age of your parents would say).

Some nights the hopelessness and the feeling of never belonging to any group would take over you. Mark was the only person you could depend on, and you were the only person he could depend on. With how young you both were it was only natural that both of you had times where the cycle of hunger, loneliness, the paranoia of surviving and being infected, almost-dying but being saved, seeing the only person you depend on almost die but saving them, either being showered with love from other survivors or being hated for whatever reason, and getting left behind either way would get too much to deal with.

The two of you were camping overnight inside a completely empty water tower, warm and dark in the winter night- the last gift of the survivor group you had tagged along with had been an old map marked all over with safe and hopefully clear places to settle in. Plus the groups you should never encounter.

So he had done what he was doing right now. He made you lay down like right now, that time on the hard concrete and now on your kind of soft mattress that was slowly rotting away, knelt in front of you unlike in the past when he laid down beside you, started playing (more like softly scratching) with your hair and scalp because he knew it worked well to make you sleep, and sang in a low tone because he knew you loved it, and found comfort in it. 

His voice sounds rougher than ever when he starts.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,” This song is much too familiar, and it is Mark’s favorite verse of it. It means so much to him, having been brought up with faith in a world he once stated he felt was ‘too far from it’. 

“And I will dwell on this earth forevermore,” His voice is soothing and soft, even though you knew he preferred his rapping much better over his singing. “Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul,”

He stops a little to take a breath, an unnecessary one, yet heavy. “But I can’t walk on the path of the right because I’m wrong.”

Mark’s voice is working its charm- or maybe it is knowing you are not alone, you do not know. But your head was getting clouded and dazed with the sleep creeping up to take you over already. He, however, continues. “Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill,”

His voice cracks a little. “Called himself the savior of the human race,”

Through the cloud of sleep, you try to reach him. Only mentally, but you try to reach him. You wanted to hear him until the end. “Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said ‘How can you save the world from itself?’”

You barely make it to the end of the line, only hearing a glimpse of his sporadic whistling.

_When you open your eyes you see Johnny sitting down next to your hand laid in front of your face, hugging the pillow. He smiles down at you, ruffling your hair for a bit. The room is dim- only the wall lights are on. The environment is mostly dark, even Johnny’s face that is much closer to you than anything. You can still see him pretty well, though, in the dim, warm yellow lighting._

_His clothes are relatively clean. A few stains and tears here and there, but nothing unusual. Him and his parents’ ways of doing laundry were always superior to many others. You wanted to learn how but Johnny said you would have to come and do it with them once to properly learn once you are out of the dorms. Sometimes he would offer to do your laundry for you when the queues and waiting periods of the laundry got too long in the dorms- it was easier to have problems with water at a rather small place where a lot of people lived, and when they got their clothes really dirty almost every single day while getting educated on survival skills and agriculture._

_His face is bright. His eyes are puffy just the right amount; he looks energetic. His smile is of genuine fondness towards you, and it makes you smile as well._

_“Sleeping too deep?” He asks quietly. The dorm room is unoccupied excluding the two of you; your roommate had gotten a bad cold and was kept in the small hospital ward. You shake your head at his question but the yawn you let out contradicts with the motion. “I was just taking a nap.”_

_Johnny nods and looks down for a second, sighing a little before looking back at you and slightly raising his hand which held a tea cloth, showing off the little pouch. “Eomma sent some cornbread. I brought some dried figs as well.”_

_Excitement washes over you, and you take the cloth out of his hand gratefully when he holds it out for you. Unable to hold yourself back, you break a small piece off of a slice of cornbread and happily put it inside your mouth- giggling in delight when you notice the fresh corn taste and the fluffy texture. Johnny chuckles at your reaction and coos only a little._

_His smile dies down pretty fast despite its brightness just a moment ago. Which is unusual for him, who likes to stretch his smiles out for as long as he possibly could._

_“Can I lie down?” He asks and points at the pillow reluctantly. You nod and scoot closer to the wall, arching your back a little and tilting your head back to secure the tea cloth of snacks inside the small, empty vase placed on the windowsill. It operated as a whatever-holder: sometimes it was actual flowers, sometimes it was small jewellery or gifts you had gotten on your birthdays, sometimes the very occasional letter from Mark even though he was just two buildings down, but usually it was snacks from Johnny._

_He lies down next to you and does not bother to get under the blanket, placing his hands on his stomach as he looks at the ceiling. You watch his chest rise and fall three, maybe four times before he can start speaking. “Did you ever observe one?”_

_“An infected?” He hums at your question. You look at the ceiling and try to remember a time you might have but nothing resurfaces. “Not really. Was too busy trying to save my ass. Or Mark’s.”_

_“You never went outside before the raid?” Johnny asks, quite curious. You shake your head again even though you are not sure if he would see it. “Not never, but we were in school mostly. It was high up in an apartment so it was the safest place. I did not have to worry much about them until we were older.”_

_An exhausted sigh makes its way past your lips and it is not only because you are physically exhausted. “And then we ran.” Turning your head to the side to look at his face, you smile. “And now I’m in a different kind of school.” Calling the dormitories a school was simultaneously a far reach and not. It was mostly to train people to not be shenanigans until they became adults, and to be responsible with their duties and communal living once they were one._

_A hand laid on his stomach reaches out for one of yours and he holds it, squeezing in a way that could not be described as tightly but rather, strongly. In a way that reassured you and calmed you down, in the way that made all your past worth the present. “You’ll get to be a Wanderer soon enough. Just a few months more.”_

_“I just like the idea of having my own place,” You chuckle as you shrug, acting like being a Wanderer was the least of your interests. “A bathroom all to myself, a less shitty bed and having the freedom to walk around whenever…”_

_“Just make sure you don’t forget about us when you get your luxury.” He smiles and looks at you, and you smile back at him devilishly. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” At that, Johnny’s mouth drops open in surprise and happiness, but you cut him off before he can even start, playing your game further. “You see, unfortunately most people I consider friends in here aren’t peaceful, calm farmers or healers or-”_

_“Yeah, we all have a fucked-up liking of the outside,” He nods as he talks to himself, eyes slightly squinted. But he comes to his own rescue with a protest. “It’s not like anybody can blame us. Being lost in the old world is quite dreamy when there aren’t screeching mushrooms running around.”_

_It makes you laugh the way he addresses once-people back from the dead, even snort a little. It had been long since you had seen one. Young recruits, or recruits that basically were not at the age of maturity, were not allowed to go on patrols, research scouts, or sweeps unless it was absolutely necessary. From what Taeyong had told you the first time you ever stepped foot into the dorms and were told about the way things went around the city, it was to give people, especially teens, a chance._

_A chance to live at least until the day they were considered adults._

_“Speaking of,” Johnny’s smile dies down once more. He takes a big breath, and his chest rises with it, and he holds it there for a few seconds. When it is let out, it sounds sad more than anything. Maybe even a bit depressed. “When we were out on a patrol today with Taeyong, there was this small group of Runners at one of the checkpoints,”_

_He looks at you, but you do not say anything, so he continues. “So we were clearing the place out as we do, and I went upstairs while Taeyong stayed behind just to be safe. I went into the studio to write down the report,”_

_With that he turns his gaze back to the ceiling, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. “And there was this.. Runner, it- he didn’t hear or see me so I hid behind a table. But he wasn’t moving around, you know? Just standing at the same spot. It was very early stage, he had just turned. Maybe a couple of days ago, I don’t know,”_

_He starts fiddling with his fingers. “He looked around the same age as me, or maybe a bit younger. Wasn’t flimsy, didn’t look like he’d been starving- he just looked healthy otherwise. But as I looked at him and the way he flinched, the way his hands moved and his shoulders cramped; the way he grunted.. it sounded too human.”_

_There is silence for a second or so, but he picks his words right back up. “And his eyes- his_ eyes _,” Johnny breathes, and the sound that comes from his nose sounds a bit too stuffed and wet to be normal. “They didn’t look completely empty. Not even meaningless.”_

_He looks down at his hands that are still fiddling, his lips hanging out a bit the way they did whenever he was sleepy or sad. Then, he nods a little, confirms whatever is going through his mind. “I think he was there,” His voice cracks and stutters. “Inside. Trapped and waiting until it consumed his brain whole. Trying to fight back as if it would be any help.”_

_“And I couldn’t help but think, as I shot him down,” He shrugs and shakes his head. “That I’d never want to be trapped in my own body and have to wait until I have no control over it, if it ever happened to me.” And he looks at you._

_Johnny looks at you._

_With his sad, brown, dark eyes. His empathy for the Runner and for his own self. He looks at you so deep, almost like he is frozen._

_Because he is._

_You reach out your hand to touch his arm, and find it to be extremely cold, and stiff._

_He is gone._

You wake up breathless and almost shoot yourself out of your bed with the force you are sitting up. Mark is gone, and nobody else is there. You are completely alone. The sky is just turning a bit grey, signalling the coming of the morning. 

Sighing, you try to relieve some of the pain in your jaws and chest; trying to forget the memory of Johnny that was now your nightmare. You had clenched up too much, it felt stiff everywhere. Now, your head was hurting too. 

There is not a single drop of sleep left in you- even if there was, you hardly think you would be able to go back. 

So you get up.

Walking to your closet in a hurry, you pick out some clothes in the dark. In all honesty you do not even know what you are picking, but it does not matter. There would be very few people outside at the dead of the night if at all, and you could not care less about how they thought your outfit was. 

This felt like the only time you could actually visit him. You just wanted to be alone with him, and the silence.

Once you wear your coat you are already half outside. You shut your door as quietly as you possibly could in your hurry, which was undeniably a little loud even if it had been a reasonable time to leave your house, but it was not like people would care. Unless someone or some _thing_ was screaming, nobody really cared.

From your house to the cemetery took around ten minutes of walking, which was a reasonable distance given how spread out this city was. How it came to be this big you did not exactly know. Johnny had told you sometime that the bigger series of stone buildings belonged to a winery- the wines would be fermented in the summer and then shipped out here in the fall to age before being sold, which was what his parents told to him. It made sense, because the stone buildings all had underground basements that were all connected, some of which were used as a hospital ward and some of which were used as a communal living space for people who did not really have families nor a role in the community like a Farmer, Wanderer or Sweeper. Basically for people who were deemed unqualified to have their own houses.

It kind of sucked, but then again, some people actually preferred being there. The director of the basements and dorms, this lovely woman called Sarwendah, had told you once that even though it was not the majority, some people found comfort in living with other people openly since it made them forget the reality of everything as long as they were in that bubble. 

The wooden buildings were either built after the gates were built- which, the gates were built after the army claimed the zone to themselves at the start of the outbreak, whose control over the area for something around 11 years, Johnny remembered those times in his childhood- or they were the ones already built for the winery’s workers and their families. 

Johnny. That bit of knowledge came from Johnny too, as well as many others.

And when you are in the cemetery walking through the graves, looking for his name and spotting it without much time passing, you see a silhouette standing right at the foot of the grave.

Who, upon walking closer, turns out to be Mark.

Who, also upon walking closer, seems to be fully equipped with bags and his gun.

“Why so equipped?” You ask, and it startles him, but he does turn around and watch you as you walk over to him. “You’re going outside to join Jaehyun?”

He clears his throat. “No, he got back,” There is a split second of silence that feels a bit too long in your confusion for how long it actually is. Mark rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath, lets it out, creating a rather long-lasting vapor. “But yeah, I’m going outside.”

“Where?” You ask further, and he visibly winces. He avoids the question to play with the stones around Johnny’s grave with his foot, nibbling on the inside of his mouth before mumbling. “I should’ve told you before but I couldn’t.”

Your brows furrow as a string is pulled at your heart with the suspicion and the piecing of things together. “What were you going to say?”

One more exhale, but this time sharp and clear-cut. Controlled. He looks at you, looks in your eyes, and tells you the words you would have never imagined he would. “They’re releasing the trespassers and I’m leaving with them.”

Everything kind of slows down at that moment if that is even possible with the lack of action-filled things around you. Shock, was it? Or utter betrayal? “I’m sorry?”

Mark takes a step closer to you and fully turns his body to face you, towering above you not so much with his height but more so with his body language. “They’re working on a vaccine. They trust what they’ve got in their hands and they’re traveling around recruiting people to guard the headquarters. They’re afraid someone might-”

It was all too much. 

“Mark, what the _fuck_ are you talking about?” You snarl, and it shuts him up effectively. Yet, after that, you do not say anything. You wait for him to explain himself and after a couple of overwhelmed inhales, he takes the opportunity. “I’m going there to work as a guard. They’re afraid of the possibility of someone stealing the samples, or worse, attacking the lab. They need every volunteer they can get right now.”

Anger. 

Pure anger is what you are feeling, and it is indescribable. It covers you from head to toe, right to left, inside and out; it feels hot and yet, icy cold. “Johnny’s blood hasn’t even dried yet, and you’re leaving with the very people who caused his death?”

Mark looks taken aback. “Be sensible. They couldn’t have known about the doors, they’re the first group from the headquarters to come here in _years_. It’s life or death out there, and they probably didn’t have the time for details.”

You take a step closer to him as if it is possible, and hit his shoulder lightly. “How about _you_ be a little sensible? How can you trust them so easily? What if they’re saying these just to recruit all those people- and to travel all the way through there-”

“They have a car. Takes three days.” Mark cuts in, which makes you chuckle humorlessly. “Okay, great. What if they just recruit you to use you as a scapegoat for when they encounter bandits? Or, like I said, they just recruit you to have more guards? The vaccine has been a word since _forever_ , Mark, and we know it. It’s a _stupid_ hopeless rumor.” 

“I’m telling you, they have scientists and they have _evidence-_ ” Mark starts, but you cut him off. “Yes! But their people also raid towns, and these people themselves are inconsiderate enough to screw up our whole system and kill our friends along the way-” You are basically trying to make sense to him with your whole body, pointing at the grave and getting closer to him and looking at his eyes to make him regain some of his sense. Just enough to keep him here, where he should be. “How can you trust them with your own life when they’ve been so inconsiderate of the others’ time and time again? You walk out of here with them and the next thing you know, you’re dead, Mark.” You point to your left, which is the direction of the big gates where the trespassers must be leaving, as they need to leave under the Leaders’ watch.

He is silent upon that. It takes him a few moments to come up with the words he is going to say, and his eyes flicker around under the confused sunlight signalling the coming of the early morning.

But he comes up with them nonetheless. “I owe it to people and to _him_ ,” He points at the grave. “To do whatever part I can to end this someday. And if I need to go to great extents and forgive them, so be it.”

And with a determined gaze in his eyes you had never seen from Mark before, he says what he _really_ thinks. “I’d rather die running after something I believe in than live with the shame every day.”

You understand.

Not him, but that he is going. 

That maybe, he is already gone.

“You leave,” You look at the grave and bite the inside of your cheek before looking back at Mark. “And I’ll come looking after you.” You whisper.

He looks away and bites down on his lip, placing his hands on either side of his hips. And then, he shrugs, not even trying to think it through. “That’d be up to you.”

And he starts walking towards the left, leaving you at the cemetery.

For the first time, you are alone.


End file.
